


From The Bottom Up

by GamerAlexis



Series: Welcome to Wonderland [3]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - GTA, Fake AH Crew, M/M, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-17 14:16:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3532400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GamerAlexis/pseuds/GamerAlexis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geoff Ramsey needed a crew in Los Santos and he needed one bad.  So he walked along the criminal underground and collected three of the best men he could find.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Street Racer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucking wrote this super late so the end gets a little, woozy.
> 
> Enjoy!

When Geoff Ramsey lands in Los Santos, it's like feeling freedom for the first time in his life.  He grabs his bags, finds the cheap-ass apartment he rented, and breaths.  He still has enough money from his last San Andreas heist to keep him on his feet for a few weeks.  Still, a Los Santos life doesn't come cheap and Geoff intends to create a crew beyond anything the world has ever fucking seen.

It's easy for him to make connections, with the stylish mustache and sleeves of tattoos, he makes a statement. He first meets Caleb, the under ground doctor who has seen everything from lacerations to burns to broken bones.  He doesn't ask questions and gets things done quick.   He's also the one who points Geoff to the his first recruit.

"He hasn't done any serious crime recently," Caleb tells him over drinks one night.  "Though, no one's done anything since, you know, the take over."

Oh, yeah.  The take over.  The moment that seems to scare all criminals into their hiding holes just by mentioning it.  These two guys, Brownman and Vagabond (Geoff never hears their names) took over the Los Santos crime scene some months back.  They killed all the bosses, took over all the drug rings, and handled every criminal operation in the city.  Anyone who stepped out of line got killed.  Every criminal Geoff runs into has the same look of terror on their faces when they talk about it.

"This guy, is he good?" Geoff asks, downing his shot of whiskey.

"Back in the day, I heard he was one of the best," Caleb shrugs.  "But now he spends his time street racing.  Damn good at it too."

Street racers are good to have on a crew.  Geoff learned that the hard way, bleeding out while his driver fucked their getaway vehicle ten ways from Sunday.  Having someone who knew how to race would be invaluable.  Caleb writes down a name and the location of the next street race and Geoff tucks it into his pocket.  Street Racing in Los Santos was a hard to find sport the best of days, but with a few carefully worded threats, Geoff manages to find one.

The name on the slip of paper is Beard.  Helpful, sort of.  It's a dark night in Los Santos and the line of cars is a beautiful sight.  Adders, Cheetah's, the whole nine.  Each of them are decked out with neon paint and halogen lights.

Except for one at the end of the line.  A blue Entity XF.  There are no decorations to separate this car from the others.  If anything, it looks plain next to the other cars.  Geoff is praying that it's Beard in that car.  Yeah, he needs a street racer to be a getaway driver, but he'll go through hell before teaming up with a douchebag.

A man walks up to the plain car, orange hair glinting in the streetlights and massive beard on his face.  The motherfucker looks like he accidentally wandered in from the tourist trap on the beach.  Plaid button down, khaki shorts, and thick glasses on his face.

That has to be the mysterious Beard.  As far as first impressions go, Geoff is pretty impressed.  The real question is if the man can race as good as Caleb said.  Throwing all caution to the wind, Geoff walks up to Beard.

"Mind if I join you?" Geoff asks, leaning up against the Entity.

"I don't take passengers," Beard answers shortly.

"Trust me, I'm no ordinary passenger," Geoff grins.  "I'm looking to recruit and you caught my eye."

"I'm honored," Beard rolls his eyes and slides into the car.  "Now back off before you get hurt."

Geoff laughs and climbs in right next to Beard.  The inside is just as luxurious, with supple, leather seats.  Geoff doesn't hesitate to throw his feet on the dashboard and look over at Beard with a cocky grin.

"I've heard that you're the best and I'm looking for the best," Geoff explains.  "I need a good get-away driver and Caleb says you're the best.  So fucking show me what you're made of."

Beard side-eyes him.  As far as people go, this guy is pretty attractive.  Geoff can't help noticing it, the particular ocean blue-green shade of his eyes, the fluffy beard, the hint of a soft mouth underneath.  Eh.  Geoff has worked with pretty people before.  It's almost like a perk.

The cars beside them all rev their engines.  A pretty black girl steps in front of the line, wearing all leathers with a mop of curly, purple hair.  She has a red scarf in each hand and is holding them up like Vana White.

"Better buckle up then," Beard says, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear stick.

Geoff barely has time to click in his seat belt before the girl waves the scarfs and the entire line of cars lurch forwards.  The Entity squeals and Geoff feels himself slam back into the seat.  Instead of watching the road, Geoff watches Beard drive.

There is no hesitation with each turn and shift.  The Entity smoothly sails past the other cars and Geoff watches the speedometer rise past 100 without pause.  It is, by far, the smoothest ride Geoff has ever experienced.

"I don't know what you're looking for," Beard says softly as he takes a hairpin turn without a second thought.  "But if you're thinking about raising a crew, you might think twice about it."

"Brownman and Vagabond?" Geoff guesses.

"They run this fucking city.  No crew lasts long."

"They haven't seen a the type of crew I raise."

Beard wins the race almost laughably easy.  He slides over the line and peals into the victory.  He doesn't step out, just grabs the money from the betting tray and drives off again.  He pulls up into Little Seoul and screeches to a stop.

Pulling out a stack of hundreds, Beard hands it over to Geoff.  "As my good luck charm."

"A pleasure doing business," Geoff salutes.  "If you ever want to fucking use your talents to their pull potential, give me a call."  He writes his phone number on Beard's hand with a pen.  "Name's Geoff Ramsey.  Hope to hear from you soon."

"Jack," Beard says.  "My name is Jack Pattillo."

Three weeks later, Geoff gets a phone call.  He's in the middle of cashing in a little robbery from a gas station.  It was small enough to stay off the radar, but gave him a reputation, just enough that he was a whispered legend among the lower criminals, but not dangerous enough for Vagabond and Brownman to notice.

Fucking one grand was the worst kind of heist paycheck, but Geoff was living with it.  A fucking piss poor lifestyle and piss poor paycheck.

So getting the phone call from Jack brightens his day considerably.

"I want in," he says.

Within a few minutes, Geoff has plans to move in with Jack for convenience sake.  Jack is going to keep street racing for spending cash while Geoff starts to create a crew for themselves.

They go on a couple of heists together, getting to know each other and how they work.  Very quickly, Jack proves himself as, not only a good get-away driver, but a damn good shot and diplomatic as fuck.

Not to mention really, really, really god damn gorgeous.  It almost makes it a problem trying to live with a roommate who Geoff has a crush the size of Jupiter on.  His fluffy hair, his cackling laugh, the way his face lights up.  Geoff starts thriving on those soft, tender moments.

Geoff quickly makes it a point to visit each of Jack's races as support.  He stood on the sidelines and cheered along with the other groupies.  Soon, though, it becomes pretty clear that this whole, just friends thing, is not doing enough for Geoff.

Back in San Andreas, Geoff was pretty adamant about not mixing business with pleasure but he watched others fight alongside their lovers and it made them stronger.  He wanted that but never had the chance to fall in love.

Then in walks Jack and now everything is different.

It's after a particularly intense race that Geoff throws his inhibitions away.  Jack barely squeals by, snatching the winnings on his way, and Geoff is running on the impromptu track.  He practically pulls Jack out of the car and plants a huge kiss on his lips.

Needless to say, the awkward tension that filled the apartment dissipated that night.  Getting fucked by Jack was only second to fucking Jack.  They probably spent an entire weekend in bed together, not doing a damn thing but lying there together.

Within weeks, however, it becomes very clear that they need more than just the two of them.  Hand in hand, Geoff and Jack start looking for another crew member.

 


	2. The Body Guard

It takes a couple of weeks before Jack finds someone else to join their tiny crew.  He steps into their little penthouse and drops a thick envelope onto the table.  Geoff tosses it open, revealing a picture and various papers.  The picture is of a fucking kid, from his curly hair to his freckles, he screams jail bait.  The name is Michael Jones.

"Who is this kid?" Geoff asks, rifling through the papers.

"Michael Jones was the personal body guard of one Tommy Valiem," Jack says, pulling out a piece of paper and placing it on top.  "Valiem is the top drug dealer underneath of Brownman and Vagabond.  Or, well, he was, until Jones took him out."

"Come again?"

Jack sits down next to Geoff, gesturing to the file.  "Valiem was really into some fucking gross shit.  I guess Jones couldn't handle it.  Slit his throat in broad daylight and then vanished."

"This kid is no good to me gone, Jack," Geoff says.  "I'm trusting you have good news for me."

"A couple weeks ago, Caleb heard about this new weapons dealer.  No one knows his name, he just goes by Mogar.  According to some fairly reliable contacts, it's Jones."

Geoff lets out a low whistle and leans back in his chair.  "I'm impressed."

"You better be," Jack gathers up the papers carefully.  "Or else you can sleep on the couch."

"Babe, don't be like that," Geoff coos.  "You always impress me."

"I know," Jack stands up and drops a kiss to Geoff's forehead.  "We're going to meet this Mogar tomorrow.  Be on your best behavior."

"When am I not?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Love you!" Geoff calls to Jack's retreating form.

"Love you too," Jack calls back.

Geoff ends up staying up almost an entire hour later Googling this Michael Jones kid.  Not that he doesn't trust Jack, because he does.  He trusts that motherfucker with his life and heart.  But there's still a feeling of being in charge that just pushes Geoff to do his own research.  Jack was right though, there's not much on this kid.  A few mug shots on the system and a few blurry pictures of him as Valiem's bodyguard, but other than that, nada.

Most crews don't want a tough guy with a sense of morality, it tended to be a big fucking buzz kill.  Geoff, however, is very interested in moral criminals.  There was a big difference in his mind between being a criminal and just being a fucking piece of shit.  Geoff likes to think he's one of the better guys in the criminal underworld.  Maybe Michael Jones could shed some light on that too.

Just as Jack promised, the next morning sees the two of them driving to meet Mogar off Strawberry Avenue.

"Just in case this isn't Michael, I've made up a list of weapons for us to buy," Jack says, handing it over to Geoff.

"Oh, backup plans," Geoff glances over the list.  "You are getting sex tonight."

Jack rolls his eyes but Geoff sees a smile peeking from the beard.

They pull up into a parking lot tucked between two buildings, nice and secure.  A short figure in a leather jacket leans against a wall next to a chrome Adder.  Must be this Mogar character.

"You guys gonna come fucking talk or just stare at me all day?" he shouts.

Geoff glances at Jack.  He shrugs and kills the engine.  Geoff steps out of the car and takes a few steps towards Mogar.

"You're Mogar, right?" Geoff calls out.

"Depends on who's fucking asking."

Geoff almost stops in his tracks from the sheer venom in his voice.  He looks at Mogar and immediately recognizes that it is Michael Jones.  The same freckly skin, the curly hair stuffed under a beanie, this is Michael Jones.

"The name's Geoff Ramsey," Geoff says.  "This is Jack Pattillo.  We're looking to hire for our crew."

"Not interested," Michael snaps.  "You buying or what?"

"I know you were Valiem's bodyguard," Geoff pushes on.  "And I know you killed him."

"So you fucking know that I'm not exactly crew material," Michael pushes off the wall and stalks up to Geoff, a little ball of condensed fury.  "No one wants a goddamn saint like me.  Doesn't matter how many fuckers I've killed because I couldn't stand what that piece of shit was doing and I put a fucking end to it."

"Which is exactly why I want you," Geoff says.  "You come with us for a day, we've got a little heist lined up.  You come join us and we'll go from there."

Michael seems to think about it, staring straight at Geoff.

"Fine.  One day."

They spend the day in the most luxurious way that criminals can.  Geoff and Jack take Michael to a simple heist, just a couple of clothing stores.  Michael shows within minutes that he's fast, strong, and vicious as fuck.  He laughs maniacally as he shoots down clerks and steps on their dead bodies.  He crows with victory as they count the money in their little apartment.

And the more time that Geoff spends with Michael, the more he feels charmed by the kid's brusque personality.  Because for each swear that he shouts, there's an even louder laugh following.  For every furrow in his brow, there's a hundred smiles and dimples in his cheeks.

So that night, when they wave goodbye to Michael and he peels down the street, Geoff knows his fucking heart has stretched to encompass that fiery boy.

Geoff falls asleep curled up next to Jack, thoughts and dreams swirling with thoughts of Michael.

It takes about a week before Geoff loses it.

"Is it fucking awful of me to want to fuck Michael?" Geoff asks over dinner.

Jack pauses, fork halfway to his mouth.  "I need you to explain that, dear."

Shit.

"Okay, listen," Geoff leans forward.  "I just.  I don't fucking know, man.  I want you, I mean, I need you, Jack.  I'd be so lost without you, I really would.  But, shit, Michael.  I want him too, but not more or less, just, equal.  Like my heart, or my love, or some other bullshit, just grew to let him in too."

"Well," Jack sets his fork down, "have you told him yet?"

"Why would I tell him?  I have to tell you first, right?  Because I can't have him and lose you.  I just couldn't do that."

"Then we'll work through it together," Jack reaches over and takes Geoff's hand.  "Look, we never promised monogamy to each other, right?  I'm sure we could work something out between the three of us."

Geoff calls up Michael that very night.

It takes a few packs of beer, half a bottle of whiskey, and a lot of shouting, but eventually they work something out.  Geoff has Jack and he has Michael.  Even though Michael and Jack don't do anything, the three of them work it out.

And it sorta works.  Some nights Geoff spends with Michael and some nights he spends with Jack.  And even though it's the agreed plan, Geoff still feels like a husband with a mistress.  Which isn't exactly what he wants.

Jack still goes street racing and Geoff always waits at the finish line.  The only difference is that sometimes Michael stands next to him.

One night, Geoff ends up working late.  Brownman and Vagabond started their rounds the other day and Geoff needs to be prepared.  He knows that if this two fuckers get a hint that there was a crew building that they would destroy it.  He hopes that Jack's winnings and Michael's weapons dealing is enough to keep them going for a while.

Glancing at his phone, Geoff realizes that he's totally missed Jack's race.  He's never missed a race, not since they hooked up.  He sends a text, apologizing for missing the race and ignoring the guilty feeling deep in his gut.

That night, Geoff sleeps in his bed alone, waiting for Jack to come scold him for missing the race.  He's tempted to leave and stay at Michael's apartment, but that would be the coward's way out and Geoff's going to fucking face this like a man.

So the last thing he expects as he tries to sleep is Jack and Michael falling on top of him, tearing at each other's clothes and practically glued together at the mouth.

"You aren't starting this without me, are you?" he asks, sleepily.

"You missed the race," Jack says as Michael yanks his shirt off.  "But Michael came."

"Which means I get the goddamn reward," Michael grins cheekily at Geoff.  "You can watch."

And while it's not exactly the most conventional way Geoff thought this would work,he's happy now.  Just him, Jack and Michael together in one apartment.

But a three man crew, while not impossible, isn't the best.  And it became clear, pretty quick, that a fourth man was needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, writing this super fucking late at night. Sorry for any errors and funky writing.


End file.
